Return
by Ash Veran
Summary: AU. Alex can't handle normalacy. So Alex Rider becomes Eric Smith. He returns to Britain.  Not an original concept. No slash. T for inevitable swearing.
1. Prologue

**Disclaimer: I don't own Alex Rider, okay? I just don't, and that's not changing anytime soon.**

**That said, please feel free to read and comment.**

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><p>Alex looked at the documents.<p>

He had liked staying with Sabina and her family. Loved it, actually. But he wasn't cut out for normalcy. Not anymore.

He'd survived a sniper's bullet at fourteen. He'd seen his guardian killed in front of him. In less than twelve months, he'd saved thousands of people several times.

No, normalcy wasn't an option. And he missed Britain.

With a sigh, he thought over his plans. All the papers were in perfect order. All he needed to do was leave. He had money for a flat, having withdrawn every penny from the trust fund through clever maneuvering. The same with his savings account.

Now he would vanish, like a wisp of smoke. He looked at the clock. He needed to leave if he was going to catch his flight.

Luckily, the Pleasures were very close to a bus route that went to the airport. He murmured a last farewell and was gone, all his old skill, practiced at any opportunity, keeping him looking like nothing more than a shadow.

Alex Rider was gone.

In his place was Eric Smith, a native of Britain returning from boarding school at the age of eighteen.


	2. His normalcy

**Disclaimer: I can't own people. It's illegal. Therefore, Alex Rider is not mine.**

**There's not going to be a ton of action for at least a couple of chapters. Alex has changed his appearance a bit. Blue contacts, hair more of a strawberry blonde than the dirty blonde we're all accustomed to reading about. I would've done black hair, but that's too hard to upkeep at an SAS camp.**

**This chapter is more about him and his feelings. I could've included more, but I thought it was long enough. And, holy crap, this is a _really_ long AN.**

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><p>"I've seen you run, kid." Alex resented being called 'kid'. Though, in this military world, he really was one. It had taken time for him to adapt a soldier's step, steady and heavy rather than the catlike, silent steps of a spook. Habits were hard to change, and the spook step had saved his life more than once.<p>

"Frankly, I'm surprised you survived the SAS training." Everyone was surprised by everything he did. From the parkour moves to the amount of knowledge, he was always surprising the other soldiers. Of course, as Alex Rider, probably the only two people who hadn't underestimated him were the two people sending him on missions.

"You're short and skinny and just barely old enough to join." Eric Smith, according to his documents, was almost nineteen, compared to Alex's true age of eight months past fifteen. And, to be fair, he hadn't quite hit his growth spurt yet, though he was taller than he had been.

"Your code name is now Cheetah, and you'll be joining J-unit. One of their members is no longer able to be a soldier." The words every soldier dreaded to hear. Alex wasn't sure how he'd react, but he knew how Eric would. It was interesting to have a permanent cover. Though, after nearly four months, it was more like a mask he always wore. "After a month, we'll see what to do with your lot."

"Yes, sir!" Alex said, rigidly at attention.

"I'm sure you'll be able to find J-unit's hut. Dismissed."

After he left the room, Alex snorted. He knew his way around Breacons Beacons, sure enough. After all, he'd spent a week at the hellish place. Later on, he'd visited for another week after… _her_ death, before everything was arranged.

_Grief was a funny thing_, he thought idly. Nearly five months had passed and he still couldn't say the name. He sauntered to a hut with a green 'J' on the door. Opening the door, he shifted the knapsack that was on one shoulder. Opening the door, he surveyed the room. It was a real pity that the only feasible exit was the door, since the windows were a little too small. A year ago, he would have fit through, but training had given him a bit more bulk, and he had grown enough that his shoulders were just a little too broad.

"I'm Cheetah." He drawled. "You all are?"

The members of J-unit stared, rather surprised by his obvious youth. Alex managed not to sigh, slipping into his Eric persona.

"You are...?" He said, prompting a response.

"Bear. Are you even old enough to be in the army."

Alex smirked. "You'll get my file in the near future. Until then..." he paused dramatically, "decide for yourselves."

"I'm Porcupine and the joker in the corner is Falcon, the medic. Try not to make him hate your guts, or getting patched up will be painful."

Alex snorted. "Yes, O mighty leader." Porcupine was definately the leader.

"Great. We've got a smartass." Bear grumbled. "So, _Cheetah_," he said with emphasis, "do tell us all about yourself."

"I'm married, with five kids and a dog." He said sarcastically. Three pairs of raised brows confronted him. "I'm nineteen, single, and the military is the only thing for me." He rolled his eyes. "Honestly, can nobody take a joke these days?"

Falcon snickered, breaking the ice.

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><p><strong>Heya. Yeah, I added on to this chapter. For a certain reveiwer complaining about it ending abruptly, I hope this is a bit better. I may have a new chapter up by tomorrow. And thanks to all my reviewers - I've never had so much of a response to any of my stories! (But then, I haven't exactly been in the more popular fandoms.)<strong>


	3. Questions and crazy answers

**Disclaimer: I can't own people. It's illegal. Therefore, Alex Rider is not mine.**

**Aright, the chapter I promised yesterday is here. Well, I didn't promise it, but I implied a promise. Some Alex and J-unit interaction. The usual stuff, a rather unproductive interrogation. And a 'saved by the bell' sort of thing.**

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><p>J-unit didn't take to him immediately. Sure, they trusted him on exercises, but Alex knew he annoyed them with the way he managed to turn conversations around when they tried to ask him about himself. And with his ability to flawlessly complete <em>anything<em>, and his ability to shoot.

In short, he annoyed them for the first couple of weeks while still being an effective member. It wasn't until Falcon, the medic, saw the bullet scar over his heart that he had to answer some questions.

"What the hell is that?" Cheetah looked up as Falcon yelled.

"What's what?" He asked. He was a bit more relaxed than he had been, his Eric/Cheetah persona more present than Alex.

"The damn scar!"

Alex came front again. "Nothing." In hindsight, he should've heard the footsteps approaching the door. People had always reacted on seeing the silvery scar, placed almost exactly over his heart.

Not that many people had seen it.

"That's a fuckin' bullet scar, Chee! And don't say it's anything else! I know a bullet scar when I see it! You're fuckin' nineteen! Who the hell did you piss off?"

Alex shrugged, but his brain was working furiously. While a good many of his other scars had faded, the worst were still quite present. And the bullet scar was the worst of the worst. "Shooting accident." He said nonchalantly.

At that moment, Bear and Porcupine walked in. Porcupine, the unit leader, was the most perceptive. And he had been trained in sharpshooting, before joining the SAS.

"What's that?" Porcupine asked, eyes narrowed.

"Nothing!" Alex snapped. He didn't want to answer any questions.

"That's from a sharpshooter." He said. He would know, being a sharpshooter. "Who tried to assassinate you? You're nineteen." He asked in a reasonable tone, like someone placating a child.

"Nobody tried assassinating me." Alex said, trying to keep his irritation from slipping into his tone. He needed to sound exasperated, not irritated. "It was a shooting accident. The bullet entered here," he showed them the scar on his side, "and bounced off a rib or something and exited." Actually, the opposite had happened. He'd never forget that Scorpia never forgot or forgave.

"Funny. For some reason I don't believe you." Porcupine retorted.

Alex groaned. "I'm serious!"

"Well, that's serious!" Falcon snarled. "And it's not much more than a year old!"

"It's never been a problem." Alex said. His smile had an ironic edge to it. Sure, it throbbed a little some days, but it really wasn't a hindrance. Drevin's Ark Angel project, followed by his mission with Ash, along with the other missions, had made him pretty much able to power through any kind of pain.

"What's so damn funny?" Bear growled, eyes narrowed.

Shit, Alex thought. "Well, don't believe me." he said, projecting hurt into his voice. "It wasn't a shooting accident. I pissed off Scorpia and an operative tried to assassinate me and missed because I stepped off the curb." He said the sentence with a perfectly straight face. After all, it _was_ the truth. His unit stared at him.

"Kid, who's your psych? 'Cause I think you're a psychopath of some kind. Or you have a really, really, really overactive imagination." Bear said.

"Haven't got a shrink yet." Alex shrugged. "And I'm not crazy, but it really was a shooting accident!" Alex mused on how lucky—well, sort of—that he was to be a good liar. "Unless you have some other theory?"

He got three hard, suspicious glares. "Well, if you won't tell us how you got that bullet wound, what about your other scars?"

Alex pointed to a nasty one on his stomach. "Organ harvesters in Australia. I was young, healthy, and available. Nevermind I would have been instantly reported missing, as I was. I got rescued just before they carved out my kidneys."

"Organ harvesters in Australia." Porcupine repeated. "Are you a bad-luck magnet? Or just a compulsive liar?"

Alex winced. "Some days, I really, honestly wonder if somebody cursed me."

"Chee, could you have told us about this?" Falcon asked tiredly. "Not that I'm worried at this point, but it would've been nice to know. At least if you'd collapsed I'd have a better idea about what to do."

"I've never collapsed because of it… well, except when it happened." Alex muttered.

"You still need to talk to the shrink. Don't think I haven't noticed your apparent hero complex. Falcon and Bear were fine."

Alex tensed up, remembering the incident. Luckily, the PA system saved him. "J-unit, report to the sergeants office."

He snorted at the irony, pulling on a shirt. The two truths he'd given them they didn't believe. And a call to talk to his superiors saved him from further questioning.

He'd only ever got called to his superiors to be sent on a mission that was supposed to be nothing hard but inevitably ended up with him being shot at.

He shrugged as he followed the unit. At least the SAS was honest when they sent a person on life-threatening missions. They'd say, 'Yeah, you dying is a very definite possibility,' or something along those lines.

"Oh, by the way, please don't mention the scar." He said, wanting to smack himself on the head for forgetfulness. He really didn't need news of a bullet wound spread around. Mi6 would instantly realize it was him and he'd be right back where he started.

At the beck and call of an intelligence agency that didn't give a damn about him and treated him like a five-year-old even _after_ saving the world and millions of people several times. The SAS paid him for his troubles, and treated him like a human being.

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><p><strong>Reveiw, people! Reveiw! It encourages me to write, I guarantee!<strong>


	4. What the brass wants

**Disclaimer: I can't own people. It's illegal. Therefore, Alex Rider is not mine.**

**A lovely new chapter today. It's really more of a filler than anything. And I will be useing an 'international smuggling ring' but I'm going to focus on one branch of the ring. Arms, drugs, jewels, whatever. But it would be incredibly kind of you to tell me which branch I should focus on. I'm leaning towards gems, because they're nice and inconspicuous, as well and major moolah. A few diamonds and voila, you've got enough to buy more than a few bombs. But, yeah, please pick your branch.**

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><p>J-unit stood stiffly at attention in the sergeant's office, waiting patiently. The sergeant was glaring, clearly waiting for somebody else to show.<p>

Needless to say, it was quiet and tense.

After nearly fifteen minutes, two people came into the office. From the corner of his eye, Cheetah saw them both and recognized one. Ben Daniels, known to some as Fox.

This was one of those times when he thanked MI6 for his training. He was able to hide his shock.

"We're borrowing you for a mission in the states. The CIA has requested help from two agents and an SAS team." He said.

Alex caught a growl before it left his throat. Just barely, but he did. The CIA and an MI6 agent he knew? _His luck of the devil had better hold out_, he thought sourly, though he kept his expression completely neutral.

"Everything said from now on is classified. As in, MI6 will hunt you down if you tell classified." Alex wanted to sneer. MI6 had done such a good job with him, after all. He was probably the most classified thing ever to enter the building.

"First, we are trying to take down an international smuggling ring. You name it, they've got it." Ben continued, oblivious to Alex's thoughts. "Second, we're going to check up on a former agent." Alex wanted to panic, but again his spy instincts kept him from it. "We haven't heard anything of his situation in over six months. MI6," _Smithers, more likely_, Alex thought, "has become worried. The agent has made powerful enemies. You will protect him, if need be."

"Are we protection detail, thugs, or emergency backup?" Porcupine asked, with narrowed eyes.

Alex was pretty sure he knew what was coming. "All three, depending on the circumstances." Ben said, Alex hiding a smirk at the answer. He'd known that was coming.

"Why us?"

Ben merely grinned. Alex, along with the rest of J-unit, narrowed his eyes. Ben's partner, a tall, lean woman, answered. "First off, you were assigned to us." She said dryly. "Secondly, you have two very good shooters and you've proven yourself semi-decent actors."

"When do we leave?"

"Ten minutes. Everything has been provided, we're just waiting for transportation. Now, anything I should know?"

Alex watched from the corner of his eye as Falcon opened his mouth. "Medically, we're all good." He said, after a split second of hesitation. "A few old scars, of course, but nothing to worry about."

"Cheetah and I are the best shots." Porcupine took over. "Cheetah is very good at stealth, Falcon's the medic, Bear is the muscle."

"He means I'm the tech guy." Bear said, narrowing his eyes at his unit leader as Falcon and Cheetah snickered.

"I'm sorry. I meant to say resident geek." Porcupine said with a straight face.

"Anything else?"

"Cheetah is inventive. And he hates meeting new people. And don't surprise him in the morning unless you have a deathwish." Porcupine said.

"Well, Porky is a monster without his morning coffee." Cheetah said. Ben snorted. "So is Bear, and Falcon. They need their morning coffee. Bear also stinks at stealth." Some of Alex's snarkiness was coming through. "Falcon worries worse than my mother ever could."

"Oi!" They half-yelled. Ben simply smirked, having been in the SAS. The woman rolled her eyes and the sergeant permitted the tiniest of grins.

"Cheetah, here, is only nineteen." He informed Ben. "Wonderfully snarky kid."

"Glad I amuse you, Sarge." Alex drawled, half-grinning.

"You know," Ben began conversationally, "You remind me of somebody."

"Really?" Alex sounded half-interested.

"A certain cub." He continued.

"Cub, eh?" Alex snorted. "I thought cheetahs had kittens."

"Alex Rider is his name."

Alex frowned, giving his lip a bite. His records said he'd gone to Brooklands school, which was an all-grades private school. "… the name seems familiar." He finally hedged. "Maybe a kid by that name went to my school."

"Where'd you go?"

"Brooklands Comprehensive. It's a private school in London."

Ben raised a brow, but didn't continue. Ales was very on edge, not that anyone would have been able to detect it. _This was going to be a very long mission, with the way Ben was acting_, he thought with suitable grimness.

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><p><strong>Reveiw, people! Reveiw! It encourages me to write, I guarantee!<strong>


	5. Flight

**Disclaimer: I can't own people. It's illegal. Therefore, Alex Rider is not mine.**

**New chapter. Yay for ya'll. I hope I clear up the dilemma of Ben recognizing (or not recognizing) Alex fairly neatly. And this is _mostly_ from Alex's POV, so it's not like you'll know Ben's exact reasons why. And I never explicitly said that Ben did or did not recognize Alex in the last chapter. I merely implied that nothing showed on his face. Huge difference there.**

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><p>The flight was long and awkwardly silent. Well, to anyone watching the four soldiers and the two agents, anyways. But not many passengers paid attention to such things.<p>

The 'gifts' Ben had brought hadn't exactly helped the tense atmosphere, because there were some rather more dangerous items.

Exploding coins, six or eight of them for each soldier, various sizes and had also been given a bullet-proof shirt of solid black. For Alex, the youngest in the group, an iPod. Brand new and specially modified to be a listening device, a distress signal, and a bug detector. The other soldiers got cell phones, rather generic ones with secure lines, MI6 on speed dial, and bug detectors. Alex, again because he was youngest, had a tube of zit cream that he remembered very well.

Alex was tense, almost at a paranoid level. Their first stop was California, to see the Pleasures. And, well, him. Sort of.

He wondered how his disguise would hold out, once meeting Sabina. Apparently, they hadn't alerted MI6 to his disappearance. He was surprised that his disguise—admittedly, not a huge effort—had held up. But, then, Ben thought he was still with in America, otherwise he would be looking much more carefully.

"Ch—Eric," Falcon hastily amended, "What's got you so tense?"

Alex idly turned his head to look out the window. "We're going to America, that's what." Falcon obviously understood the unspoken, and was silent. Alex, on the other hand, had his mind going nearly as fast as the plane was flying.

There was no way Ben hadn't recognized him. No possible way, not after his experience in Bangok, when he was seriously disguised. Ben had recognized him then, he had to have recognized him now.

But… Ben hadn't exactly called MI6 last time he'd found him. Ben had simply helped him, not once, but twice. And there was the unlikely—very unlikely—possibility that Ben thought he was no more than a look-alike.

Maybe this could work out, he brooded. Of course, that depended on what Ben did.

Alex fell into a half-doze, relieving himself of his troubling thoughts.

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><p>At Chicago, they changed planes. Alex was rather disconcerted to find that only him and Ben were continuing on to California, while the others headed to base in New York.<p>

Alex made sure he was coolly composed as he boarded the plane, taking an aisle seat and leaving the window seat for Ben. Pulling out the iPod, he slid the earbuds in and turned up the music. Ignoring Ben would be a lot easier with music playing.

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><p><strong>Reveiw, people! Reveiw! It encourages me to write, I guarantee!<strong>


	6. Discussions

**Disclaimer: I can't own people. It's illegal. Therefore, Alex Rider is not mine.**

**I'm really sorry about the double chapter! I had no idea! (And I was away from my computer for a week, so I didn't know until now.) I think my computer was having a bad day or something. And 'boot' is the British term for 'trunk'. Or so I've been told.**

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><p>His iPod, sadly, died about twenty minutes away from landing. Alex removed the earbuds, now half-wishing he had chosen the window rather than the easy escape.<p>

"So…" Ben said. An awkward silence stretched between them.

Alex, to break the awkwardness, "Yeah?"

"You don't look nineteen."

Alex faced Ben, raising a brow. "Really." He said flatly. It _could_ have been construed as sarcasm.

"And about that Alex Rider… you really look almost exactly like him."

Alex knew what Ben was doing. He was fishing. "Maybe I'm his identical twin separated at birth."

Ben snorted. "That only happens on soap operas."

Alex smirked wryly. "Maybe I'm a soap opera waiting to happen." _It was true_, he reflected, _and if anyone got word of his explotion by MI6 out, well… safe to say, there would be a soap opera_.

"You know, I'm not so sure we have to check on Alex Rider."

"Then why, exactly, are we flying to California? And why, exactly, did we split off from the others?"

Ben sighed. "I have to at least _look_ like I'm following orders."

"Alex Rider is that important?"

Ben sighed, massaging the bridge of his nose with his thumb and index finger. "Eric, you know very well how important he is."

"Do I?" Alex challenged. He was going to test Ben, he decided.

"Eric." The exasperation in his voice could have been applied to the name Alex, which had the same number of syllables as Eric.

"So, Ben," Alex stressed the name, "Why me? I'm the least experienced."

Ben sighed. "We'll discuss it later."

Alex sighed, too. 'Later' meant when they were away from people who could overhear. Which, to him, clearly meant that Ben definitely knew and Ben definitely wanted to know why and such things.

He really wasn't too surprised. In Bangkok and Australia, Ben had helped _him_ first.

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><p>The rental car was once white, but now a yellowy white that sported numerous dents and scrapes that gleamed silver. Alex scanned the car for bugs before throwing all of his gear—except the coins—in the boot. Ben did the same, knowing that MI6 might've attached a bug to something of his.<p>

Alex sat in the passenger's seat, Ben driving. After a few moments of silence, Ben spoke. "I don't really need to go to the Pleasure's house, do I?"

"Not really." At this point, it was pointless to lie to the spy.

"How old are you really?"

"Fifteen, closer to sixteen." Alex saw Ben's knuckles whiten on the steering wheel.

"You were fourteen?"

"Yeah." He didn't feel the need to elaborate, and neither did Ben.

"Why did you join the SAS?"

"I like to help people." Alex said. "I liked saving the world. And I can't go back to the kind of normalcy other teenagers have."

Ben sighed, giving Alex the briefest of looks. His eyes, blue rather than brown, were dark and haunted, remembering. "No, I suppose not." He sighed again. "I'll tell MI6 that Alex Rider is happily living with the Pleasures and has no need of protection. I imagine you don't want to see them?"

Alex shook his head. He didn't want to intrude on their life. They were better off if they simply forgot him.


	7. Planning or lack thereof

**Disclaimer: I don't own Alex Rider, okay? I just don't, and that's not changing anytime soon.**

**New chapter! And please note I fixed the previous one! Feel free to comment.**

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><p>Staying in a cheap hotel overnight, they joined the rest of the crew in New York after a morning flight. Alex was rather glad for the winter parka he'd brought. It was cold and snowy. In some areas, the snow was knee-deep. Against obviously unused building sides, he could see heaping drifts.<p>

"It's bloody fuckin' cold!"

Alex snickered at Bear's complaints. "Yeah, and it was bloody wet and cold in London. And remember there are kids around, Lucas."

Bear flipped Alex the bird. "You're so damn cheerful." He muttered.

"Shut up, both of you." Pocupine growled. "You're giving me a headache!"

"But Andre, I like to talk!" Alex exclaimed comically.

Falcon rolled his eyes. "Shouldn't we get to the apartment? I'm not exactly fond of the cold."

"And rejoin the Dragon Lady?" Bear snorted. "No way in hell."

"She's that bad?" Alex asked curiously.

"Well… she's not Miss Congeniality." Falcon said.

"There's a restaurant somewhere." Ben said. "We can go there. Marie can be uptight, but she is new to the game."

"You got stuck with a newbie on a complicated mission overseas?" Falcon asked incredulously.

Ben offered a Cheshire grin. "Depends."

Alex had a sinking feeling in his stomach.

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><p>The restaurant they chose was more of a coffee shop, overflowing with people. The chatter was nearing deafening, though the soldiers and spies had been smart and stowed themselves away in a corner. Anybody would have a hard time eavesdropping.<p>

"So, have we got a general plan?"

"Nope." Ben said cheerfully. "We play it by ear."

"Do you ever have a plan?"

Ben frowned. "Does making one a few seconds before implementation count?"

"No."

"Then I very rarely have a plan. Plans tend to get fucked up and derailed."

Alex snorted. Oh, yeah, he knew _all_ about that.

The five continued talking, only stopping when a harried-looking waitress arrived.


	8. Nightmare

**Disclaimer: I don't own Alex Rider, okay? I just don't, and that's not changing anytime soon.**

**New chapter! Now, I do know that this isn't incredibly action-packed. Action doesn't happen every second, you know. Here, I'm just reminding ya'll that Alex does have some issues. A bit of the team dynamic, too. Sort of. And now ya'll know a bit more about the mission.**

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><p>Alex was half-asleep. He'd automatically switched to mission mode, adopting his false identity easily. He was James Henderson, seventeen-year-old delinquent. The CIA, Ben said, had asked for help.<p>

He wasn't sure he believed that, but he knew the policies of intelligence communities and operatives. Talk and double-talk, cross and double-cross and triple-cross, tricks from every direction… yes, he was very aware of the intelligence world.

He was to infiltrate a group, as yet unnamed, that smuggled drugs and gems. It was an odd combination, sure, but he could see the logic. They were in New York to disable the main base, leaving the CIA or FBI or whoever to clean up afterwards.

He rolled over.

It took a long while for him to sleep, but he finally did.

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><p><em>A collage of faces flashed before. They revolved around him. Sabina's face, worried and slightly accusing. Tom's, half-grinning with the mouth moving animatedly. Jack's, twisted in worry and pain.<em>

_Jack became more than a face, evolved into a body. Blood leaked from tears in clothing, burns seared limbs. The odor of burnt flesh was incredibly real. Jack opened her mouth, obviously intending to scream, before evaporating._

_Then Kaspar's head, tattooed like a globe, leered threateningly at him. Alex's throat closed up, as pressure was applied. He twisted his head a little, catching a glimpse of Conrad's lopsided face. Alex opened his mouth to scream…_

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><p>"Cheetah! Wake up!"<p>

Alex jolted out of sleep. Falcon, in the bunk above him, was peering down. "Wha—?" Alex asked, disoriented.

"You had a nightmare. I thought they'd gone away."

Alex swallowed sharply, his arms involuntarily tensing as he noted he was slick with sweat. "Me too." He muttered. The dreams had subsided when he joined the SAS, really about a month after. Something—maybe being back in his sort of world—had put him at enough ease to not have nightmares.

Falcon sighed, dropping to the floor. Alex was sure that the people in the apartment beneath them would have awakened. The apartment the team was using was on the small side, with three bedrooms, a tiny bathroom, and a kitchenette.

"You wanna talk about it?"

Alex tilted his head slightly. Did he? If he changed it a little, it would be fine. Maybe. "Don't tell anybody else."

Falcon nodded. He had been fast to understand that when Eric didn't want anybody to know something, it was less trouble just to keep it secret.

"Well…


	9. Druggy

**Disclaimer: I don't own Alex Rider, okay? I just don't, and that's not changing anytime soon.**

**New chapter! Now, I know it's been awhile since the last update, but you'll have to get over it. I'll try to establish some kind of regular schedule, but I generally just write as inspiration comes and goes. And I do have a life outside of Fanfiction, you know.**

**Alrighty, here we have the real start of the mission. If you think I did something wrong, feel free to tell me. However, if you're criticizing to criticize, don't. I don't like flamers. (Of course, thanks to all of my wonderful reviewers!)**

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><p>Alex almost—<em>almost<em>—snarled at his reflection. His hair had been dyed black with streaks of green. He had gotten a nose piercing and an ear piercing. On the plus side, both piercings had explosive qualities.

They hurt like hell, though.

A cream had paled and yellowed his complexion, more make-up creating deep shadows under his eyes. And his eyes were sullen green.

His other clothes, something more… low-key and practical, had been replaced by a loose, ratty tee-shirt and cargo pants frayed at the hems. He had a heavy coat, once pale gray. The only thing about his outfit vaguely new were the scuffed black combat boots.

And the worst part was at the bend of his right elbow—little red scabs, pricks from a sewing needle that Marie had in a little kit. They were meant to mimic jabs from a hypodermic needle.

Alex looked about fifteen now, and he looked like a—he almost cringed—druggy. Now he was going to have nightmares about his Brookland isolation. On top of his returned nightmares about the megalomaniacs and the henchmen he'd faced down.

"Is this really necessary?" He knew he sounded like a petulant teenager—hell, he was a sixteen—and he really didn't care.

"Well, they'll hardly let a squeaky-clean kid into their ranks. You're just the lucky one." Ben smirked.

"Anyways, none of us could have pulled this off." Bear seemed almost smug. "You have the gift of eternal youth. And it could b—"

Alex glared, effectively shutting Bear up. "Don't you dare jinx it." He almost snarled.

"Sheesh, you're sure good at the moody teenager experiencing withdrawal act." Falcon sounded highly amused.

"You're all a pack of sadistic bastards, you know that?"

He was laughed at.

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><p>"Hey, kid." The voice came from the shadows. Alex was immediately tense and alert, not that anyone would've been able to tell. "You look like you need some cash."<p>

"Green would be great." Alex snarled. "You offering a job or somethin'?" He'd dropped his British accent completely, substituting a more American one, with the American slang he knew.

"Maybe. I'd have to talk to my boss, though. And there's some... tests."

Alex wanted to scream. Luck of the devil, indeed. Well, if it meant the mission would be over sooner, he'd take it.


	10. Fight, fight, fight!

**Disclaimer: I can't own people. It's illegal. Therefore, Alex Rider is not mine.**

**Well, I decided what the test would be. I hope I got this chapter off quickly enough for you people. Demanding, you are.**

**There are probably going to be some time skips. I mean, realistically, you can't take down a large, powerful gang in a few days, even if you have the luck of the devil. You'll find out what the rest of the team is doing next chapter.**

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><p>The hideout wasn't much of a hideout. A little old shack in the slums. A couple of chairs. There were four other guys in view, with appearances similar to Alex. Except that those four bulged with muscle. One had a crooked nose, clearly broken multiple times. Another had a green and orange mohawk, the third was missing a whole lot of teeth. The last was most unpleasant-looking, grizzled with a scarred face.<p>

"So, kid, you've got potential." Scarface addressed him.

"Potential for what?" He asked sullenly.

Scarface grinned. "Well, that depends. If you're a squealer, you've got a potential to end up dead."

Alex wanted to roll his eyes—he'd been threatened with death way to often for it to be scary anymore. "I'm here because one of my dumb-ass buddies squealed on me." He made sure to sound a little bored, a little jaded, and a little scared.

"Where're you from?"

"Was from some little rinky-dink town. Barely deserved to be named." He shrugged, utterly apathetic.

"How interesting." Scarface didn't sound interested at all. "So, what'd you get squealed for?"

"Possession." Alex shrugged again. "But I try to be a careful guy. The police officer I kneed pry don't like me much, but I'm not goin' back to rinky-dink." He'd moved so he was slouching against one of the walls.

"You know how to fight?"

Alex snorted. " 'course I know 'ow to fight." He scoffed. "Bigger boys liked to pick on me." He gave a shark's grin. "Not anymore."

"Real potential." Scarface said again. "Boys, attack him."

"Oi, what's this?" Alex cried as he dodged a punch from Mohawk. He hit Gums hard in the jaw, remembering to make it seem as if he had no formal training. Gums reeled back, Broken Nose taking his place. Alex's foot moved up through the air, nailing Broken Nose where no man should be kicked. Broken Nose collapsed, groaning.

Alex grabbed one of the rickety chairs, smashing it into Mohawk. The chair shattered, though Mohawk collapsed, splinters everywhere.

Scarface clapped slowly. "Impressive. I can already see you rising within the ranks. But you'll start out as an enforcer. You seem to be a natural fighter. Clever, as well."

Alex wiped a bit of mud from his forehead. "Really."

"Really." Scarface affirmed. "What's your name, kid?"

"Call me Jake."

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><p>"Well, Ben, Jake is now an enforcer." Alex had donned blonde wig and removed the makeup and nose ring in an abandoned house he'd passed. "Not sure if it's the right gang, but time will tell, I guess."<p>

"Yeah."

"With me, time'll probably tell pretty fast."

Ben laughed wryly at Alex's statement as they went in. "Probably, Eric. Probably."

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><p><strong>Heya. Yeah, I added on to this chapter. For a certain reveiwer complaining about it ending abruptly, I hope this is a bit better. I may have a new chapter up by tomorrow. And thanks to all my reviewers - I've never had so much of a response to any of my stories! (But then, I haven't exactly been in the more popular fandoms.)<strong>


	11. And then

**Disclaimer: I can't own people. It's illegal. Therefore, Alex Rider is not mine.**

**Yes, I know this is extremely short. Deal with it. And anyways, this was the best stopping place for the chapter. **

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><p>Oh, it went fast. Within a month, Alex was promoted. He now picked up goods and brought them to base. They were supposed to be unopened, of course.<p>

_But_, Alex thought with a grin, _when had he ever followed the rules_?

The first package he'd opened had contained bags of white powder. He'd used a medicine syringe to get a sample, sealing it in a plastic baggie and putting it in his pocket.

The second package had been much smaller, so he'd opened it with more care. A baggie of rocks. He thought they might be uncut gems and picked out a couple of the smallest, pocketing them, before sealing the package back up.

Ben had gotten them sent to a lab. They didn't get the reports back, but they did get confirmation that it was the right gang.

And then, as things always did when Alex was involved, it all went to hell.

It went to hell with a bucket of gasoline.


	12. it went to hell

**Disclaimer: If I were older than thirty, I might own Alex Rider. However, I am younger than thirty. And it's illegal to own people, anyways.**

**Okay, so I wasn't planning to update until sometime next week, but I had a burst of inspiration. So the next update will still be sometime next week, but I just had to get it out! That first line popped into my head and I had to write this chapter. Had to.**

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><p>Technically, it was Porcupine's fault. He'd gotten seen shadowing Alex, and an alarm had been raised. Scarface (Alex hadn't bothered to learn the man's name) raised the alarm and called him an infiltrator.<p>

So, now he was running through the alleys of New York, dodging bullets. Luckily, he'd done plenty of exploring. With his luck, bullets were only a matter of time.

He stopped, throwing himself flat against a wall. A knife flew past his nose, followed by two bullets and a rather large rock, covered in slushy slime.

_Ah_, Alex thought grimly, _you had to love New York_. He took off running again, shedding bits of his disguise as he went. He ducked through an open window (thinking who the hell would leave a window open?) and got a moment's reprieve.

It was an old townhouse, dusty and abandoned. Rifling through the closet, he came up with a black trench coat, bright blue mittens and hat, and a navy muffler. Ducking out the front door, in his 'new' clothing, he scooped up a handful of white snow and scrubbed his face. He couldn't take out the piercings, but he pulled his muffler up and the hat down.

He moved quickly through the shadows, finding a crowd to blend into.

But his luck only ever failed him when things were going well. A pack of muscle-bound men decided he was a good victim to mug. Alex really couldn't say anything. His coat was clearly newer, and one of the more expensive brands (why was it in an abandoned townhouse?) and he hardly looked threatening, with his slight frame and six foot frame.

"Dammit!" He snarled, ducking a few blows. Utilizing his training, he left the knocked-out thugs in an alley and was met by a gun barrel.

"So, you're the kid called Jake?"

Alex wanted to scream. Really, was it too much to ask to have a bit of good luck?


	13. An unlikely savior and a change in plans

**Disclaimer: I don't own Alex Rider. It's just not possible.**

**Yeah, I know it's been awhile. I was having some issues with my computer that didn't allow me to access FF and then school started and I got completely swamped. But I'm back, though there probably won't be regular updates. I have an essay on _Wuthering Heights_ due Friday. Ugh. The book wasn't bad, but writing an academic essay on a book tends to spoil it.**

**Anyways, without further ado, your next chappie!**

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><p>"Drop the gun." A woman's cold voice was bad, until Alex realized he recognized it as Marie.<p>

The man whirled, demanding, "And who the hell do you think you are?"

Alex grinned and hit the man hard on the back of the neck, but not too hard. He slumped. "Miss Marie, my thanks."

The woman slipped a small handgun in her coat pocket. "Well, Ben was right that you were in trouble. I'm just curious as to how he knew."

"Porky got seen, I got burned." Alex scowled now. "It's rather annoying, and all his fault. But we've got the information we came for."

"I know." She said dryly. "The apartment is no longer safe, so we're heading for the airport."

"That's a really bad idea." Alex had a sudden vision of their plane either being hijacked or exploding. "Bad idea."

"You're a soldier, not a spy."

Alex smiled a wry, bitter smile. "I guess not, but I'm having visions of exploding and hijacked planes. It would be just my luck."

"We've got to follow orders, kid."

"I'm not a kid." Alex retorted sharply.

"You don't look any older than sixteen."

Alex wanted to make some kind of retort, but he found himself unable. He was only seventeen, and in the eyes of the law, he would be considered a child soldier. And former child spy, in his case. About thirty kinds of illegal (probably more) any way anybody put it. "So?"

"So I'll call you a kid if I want to. That's your cover anyways, isn't it?"

Alex scowled as they walked, listening to their boots crunching on the icy snow. He was still hyped on adrenaline, so heard the other sets of footsteps following them.

"Hey, Chee." It was Falcon. "Marie." His voice was more guarded. "Change of plans. We're paying a visit to our friendly American police somebodies."

"Oh, joy. Any reason?"

"Orders from up top. We're in protection, until the better part of the gang is in custody."

"Naturally." Alex almost growled. He wanted out of America.

It reminded him of too much.

"Look, Chee, I know you're not happy about this—" Falcon began.

Alex cut him off with a look. "I don't want to talk about it, I don't ever want to talk about it."

"What is it?" Marie snapped, exasperated.

"None of your business." Alex said snidely.

"He gets like that, sometimes." Falcon told the woman, sounding almost apologetic.


	14. Gunshot

**Disclaimer: I don't own Darth Revan or Evanescence. Sad but true.**

**It's been awhile since the last chapter, I know. But I've delivered a wonderful chappy. Now I just have to make my decision...**

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><p>Alex got more nervous every minute they spent at the police station. Something was very wrong. Every instinct was prickling, every last feeling.<p>

"Geez, Chee," Porcupine drawled, "relax. We're not in trouble."

Ben looked at him, apparently just noticing his distress. "Something wrong?" He remembered Alex's nose for trouble.

Alex was pacing now. "Yes." He muttered.

"What?"

"Bad feeling."

"Define."

He looked at Ben. "It's a bad feeling. I know… something here is screwed up. Something isn't adding up."

"I need something to go on." Ben said. "Think someone else is behind it or something? It's not Scorpia… they were decimated a year or two ago…" Alex tensed at the casual mention, not that anyone noticed, "a Triad is likely, though."

_Snakehead_, Alex mentally corrected. "I could see a Sn—Triad being involved in this. I don't know which one, though." Or it could be one of the very few surviving and free board members of Scorpia, out for a bloody revenge. Or it could be someone else he'd pissed off, someone who'd miraculously survived and had a bone to pick with him. But... a lot of people had bones to pick with him.

He didn't think anyone had survived, though.

It could even be that someone at MI6 had decided he was a security risk and this was their convoluted way of taking him out.

They all heard the gunshot at the exact same moment.


	15. Traitor

**It's been gone awhile, I know, and I really have no excuse. But at least I didn't kill Alex! (And I really couldn't resist that last line.)**

**Disclaimer: It's highly unlikely that I'll receive the copyright to Alex Rider for Christmas. Highly unlikely.**

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><p>Alex wasn't quite sure how he'd managed to dodge this bullet, but he had. Marie had gotten it instead, blood blooming from her chest.<p>

"What the hell?" Porcupine exploded.

Alex knelt by her body, quickly rifling her pockets. His experienced eye made him pull out his knife and carefully cut away the edge of her skirt. He teased a slip of paper out from between the two layers of fabric. "She's been sabotaging us." Alex said quietly.

"Chee," Falcon said patiently, "how did you dodge that?"

Alex shrugged. "Instinct?"

Ben chortled darkly. "That's one helluva instinct."

He shrugged. Now was definitely not the time to tell them about the assassin that was a half-centimeter from killing him. "Luck?"

"Oh, yeah." Boar snorted. "We all know you've got the Devil's luck. Since it just saved your life, we better expect trouble."

"We've been expecting trouble." Porcupine hissed in exasperation.

"Not Alex's kind of trouble."

Alex glared at Ben.

"What?" Falcon looked between the two, eyes narrowed. "What aren't you telling us?"

"Nothing." Alex snapped. He wanted his secrets to stay buried. "Grab her gun and let's get out of here. We'll have to get back to England the hard way." He had their passports in his backpack. He had rolls of cash he'd appropriated on a vague instinct he was very happy he'd paid attention to.

"The hard way?" All of them were staring at him intently.

Alex crouched in the doorway. "I've learned that you can never count on help from anyone but yourself." He took Marie's gun, sliding it in his waistband. "We'll have to do something very sneaky, underhanded, and MI6-worthy." He scowled. "At least they gave us some useful things."

"Jag, what's wrong with you?"

Alex looked up and smirked, a reckless sort of smirk, knowing there wasn't much of a point in lying any longer. "My name's Rider. Alex Rider."


	16. Terrifying

**It's been gone awhile, I know, and I really have no excuse. Except college. But I'm back! **

**Disclaimer: It's highly unlikely that I'll receive the copyright to Alex Rider for Christmas. Highly unlikely.**

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><p>Falcon thought they had been very patient with Cheetah. They generally ignored his uncanny tendencies. They didn't ask about his nightmares. They didn't ask where he had learned to shoot or parachute or do three-quarters of the stuff he did.<p>

Chee had just told them he was not Eric. Since it wasn't a good time to ask, they didn't. Bear and Porcupine had managed to keep all their questions behind their teeth, and now they were in a safe place.

The current problem was that Chee didn't look even vaguely terrified that they were looming over him with their best glares.

"Chee, the truth would be nice."

"What?" he smirked. "I thought there were only dozens of rumors about me."

Ben sighed. "Alex, do tell all. None of us know enough."

He shrugged. "You all know too much." He fiddled with the papers that had been stitched into Marie's skirt. "And MI6 really needs to choose their employees better."

"How'd you dodge the bullet?"

He shrugged. "Instinct, luck, a bit of both. Take your pick."

Porcupine sighed. "That scar… SCORPIA really did put out a hit on you?"

Alex shrugged. "Pretty much."

"And the organ harvesters?"

"I rescued myself." He spat. "Right before they were about to take out one of my kidneys." His hands clenched, white-knuckled. "I've swum with a jellyfish in a glass tank. I've jumped out of planes." He could feel his nails digging into his skin. "I've been shipped to Australia. I've been to outer space. I walked to another building on a metal cord four days after the bullet." His voice darkened, deepened. "I hijacked Air Force One. I killed a man with a magnet." He laughed. "And that's not even the half of it. Hell, I shot the Prime Minister."

"That was you?"

Alex looked up at Ben, eyes hooded. "Didn't Wolf tell you about the time I went down a mountain on an ironing board, crashed into a train, taught a snowmobile how to fly, and made a really bad joke about it?" He snorted. "Surely you noticed the bullet wound and asked."

"I didn't believe him." Ben murmured. "I didn't want to."

"That's no surprise." Alex finally looked up, allowing his veil to fall. His blue eyes were chilling, ancient.

Falcon half-thought that those cold, cold eyes on Chee—Alex—were the most terrifying thing he'd ever seen.


	17. He was insane, though

**Disclaimer: It's highly unlikely that I'll receive the copyright to Alex Rider for Christmas. Highly unlikely.**

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><p>"How old are you, really?"<p>

Alex looked at them. "Do you really want to know, Porky?"

"I asked."

"Seventeen." He unclenched his fists, flicking away a few drops of blood. "I'd tell you to keep all of this under wraps, but it's too late for that."

Ben tensed. "What do you mean?"

Alex's lip curled up into a wry, bitter half-smirk. "I mean somebody already knows. That bullet was for me. This op went skewed because somebody who hates me figured out who I was." He laughed. "Funny. I thought they were all dead. My enemies just about always ended up dead."

"Chee, that's ludicrous."

"No." Alex shook his head. "It isn't. But I don't know who, see. Sayle's out…so're Greif, Sarov, Cray, Rothman, Drevin, and Kaspar." His fingers tapped. "The SCORPIA board's out of the picture…" he mumbled, continuing the verbal litany, "Big Circle—nah, they're not bold enough… Yu's dead…" He growled. "Honestly, I can't really imagine who. Nobody's been dumb enough to come after me since J…" he still can't say it, "since shit happened in Egypt. Yassen liked me, really, so he wouldn't be out for me since there's nobody else who'd have the money to tempt me—but he's dead, probably."

"So… those were your enemies?"

Alex looked up, almost startled, and shrugged. "Mainly, yeah."

"Mainly." Bear repeated flatly. "You're on a first-name basis with the deadliest assassin in the world."

"Actually, he's probably dead." Alex rubbed between his eyebrows. "And he point-blank refused to shoot me three times. Maybe four. That makes us sort of friends." Alex snapped his fingers. "Walker! Walker could be the one!"

"Walker?"

"CIA agent who defected to SCORPIA." Alex grinned sheepishly. "I might have screwed him over and not actually killed him accidentally. Or on purpose, but whatever. He was the only SCORPIA operative I know got away." His face darkened. "The rest were dead."

"So that mess in Cairo was you?" Ben muttered.

"A lot of things were me." Alex mumbled. "Do be specific when you ask me about messes. I've made a lot of them."

"Greif is the only name I haven't heard." Bear mumbled.

"Eh." Alex shrugged. "He was making clones of rich boys. I had one for awhile. Same luck as me—I blew him up and he lived." His lips twisted again. "The bullet in the forehead took him out, though."

"Evil dopplegangers." Bear muttered. "What the hell did you do so bad in your last life?"

"I wish I knew."

"Alex, you wouldn't shoot Ash. That guy betrayed you in the worst possible way and you didn't lift a hand to hurt him. You just moved out of the way of the bullet. What did your clone do?"

Alex lifted his eyes, the burning chill back in them. "He took the only thing that mattered." He snorted, smirked. "And then he said I was too much of a good boy to shoot him, not strong enough to pull the trigger even though he'd detonated those explosives." Alex shrugged. "Not sure why he thought that when I blew up a building with him in it, but whatever."

Ben swallowed.

"He was insane, though."

"How old were you…?" Porcupine asked slowly, unsure he wanted know.

Alex's eyes flicked up to his teammates. "I was fourteen."


	18. Survival by British

**We're nearly done with this little story, _mes amis_.**

**Disclaimer: Alex Rider was not my Christmas present.**

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><p>"No." Ben looked horrified. "You couldn't have been."<p>

"Ah, poor naïve Ben." Alex snorted, derisive. "If MI6 had the guts to use me once, what makes you think they wouldn't do it again? Blunt's in charge, not Jones. Why would I bother with a false identity of the highest quality unless I needed it?"

"Where'd you even buy a false identity."

He shrugged. "I know people who know people."

"What people?!" Porcupine exploded. "This is all insane! Batshit crazy, even! For a year, you were the deadliest, most successful damn spy in the world before your fifteenth birthday and you didn't think to tell us?!"

"Spies tend to be good at keeping their secrets." Alex said dryly. "And how was I to know that you wouldn't rat me out? And I'm a spy. I don't talk about anything. You have to pry it out of me, remember?"

Falcon scowled. "Don't remind me, twerp. I was always the one stuck prying."

"Let's just leave the mystery of me alone. We have to get out of the country incognito."

"Do you have people you know?"

"Sure." Alex smirked. "There's some CIA agents who owe me favors. And a CEO who might be talked into lending me a plane. Or we could travel down, hit Mexico, and plane-hop circuitously."

"Isn't Canada closer?" Ben asked tiredly.

"They're a bit more stringent about what we'd technically be. Fugitives, and all. So, no, not Canada. All you ever hear from Mexico is that corruption is rampant and we can quite frankly use that to our advantage."

"So, more illegal activies?"

Alex shrugged. "Well, they're about all that'll get us out of this mess safely. And it's only illegal if you get caught."

"That's not comforting." Ben said dryly.

"Well," Alex grinned a little, "if we get caught, it'll be by the bad guys, so we won't be charged with anything illegal."

"It'll be by the bad guys?" Falcon muttered. "How comforting."

"We still won't be charged with anything illegal." Alex repeated.

"You're a real card." Porcupine muttered tiredly.

Alex sighed. "Well, we will probably get caught. But we won't get charged with anything illegal. The bad guy might threaten to feed us to crocodiles or his pet jellyfish or dissect us alive, but we'll get away."

"Where are you getting this from?!" Bear exclaimed.

"Well, that's what happens." He looked at bear. "I get caught, I get threatened, I almost get killed, I escape, then the bad guy ends up dead with his evil plot thwarted."

Ben blinked at him. "You're joking."

"That's what happens." Alex insisted. "And I'm always alive."

"And us?" Porcupine asked wearily.

"Well… Ben and Wolf and Tamara came out okay." His eyes darkened. "Though the American Idiot Couple didn't… so, since you're British, yeah, I think you'll live."

"Our survival is based on the fact that we're British and not American?"

"The only measure I've got."


	19. Alex

**The Last Chapter. BTW, Alex Rider isn't mine.**

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><p>Alex was the one who stole the first car. And kept stealing them until they hit the border. He figured a way across the border, found the person to talk to for fake passports. He led the heist for the money they needed, picked a fast plane to England.<p>

"Well boys, we're back on good ol' British soil." Getting through customs had been annoying, but Alex managed to be charming.

"To the bank, then." Ben sighed.

"I'll get a cab." Alex trotted off.

They didn't see Alex dump his bag in a trashcan or slip the iPod into someone else's pocket. They didn't see him lift a baseball cap. They didn't see him melt into the crowd, hands in his pockets, head slouched forward, like the teenager he was, conveniently keeping his face shadowed.

They only knew that he definitely wasn't getting the cab.

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><p>Alex didn't look back as he ambled further and further away, his hair and face hidden under a stolen baseball cap, his funds stitched in the lining of his coat.<p>

A few more blocks and he ducked into an alley, switching the baseball cap for a knit one, giving his ratty-looking coat a few smears of alley dirt. For uniformity, he grunged up his face and jeans. The sneakers were scuffed enough to be fine on their own.

He wasn't going to go into the lion's den. He'd done it a few too many times and the proof was littered on his skin. He knew it was going to send Blunt into as much of a rage as the man ever got into and he couldn't help a satisfied little smirk as he wound through the familiar alleys.

It was time for Alex Rider to take on a new face.


End file.
